On Your Side
by ImagineZombii
Summary: Bayleigh Quinn Thomas is perfectly content as a loner. The only contact she enjoys is with her beautiful German Short hair, Coby, the monsters she kills, and the men she hustles out of their money. But after that one fateful night when she first met the Winchesters, she hasn't been able to get away from them. And it's really pretty much annoying.
1. Episode 1: Pilot

The woman gasped as the vampire's cold arm pressed against her throat and held her dangling a few inches off the ground. She tried to keep his focus on her and not on the machete lying on the ground a few inches away. He leaned forward with a cruel smile and licked some blood off her face.

"I think I'll turn you, Hunter," he said.

"Die," she replied in a considerably better smelling but strained whisper. He started laughing, fangs extending from his gums. She flinched back, feigning fright.

The vampires fangs met her neck as her needle met his. He hissed and fell down passing out almost immediately. Unfortunately, he dropped her, forcing her to take a precious moment to refill her lungs with air and regain balance. She retrieved her machete and leaned against the wall for a moment as black spots swam before her eyes again, then went to kneel by the unconscious vampire. She gingerly removed the needle from his neck. 'Dead man's blood works everytime,' she thought, the ghost of a memory if a smile playing at her lips.

She then proceeded to behead the monster.

Bayleigh Quinn Thomas had no real need for any sense of normalcy. Nor for any type if human contact. That's why she got into the business of hunting monsters. It was practically required not to have relationships with normal people, and she had none, save with her dog.

Bayleigh stiffened. There was a presence behind her. She steadied her breathing and relaxed her muscles so they wouldn't know she knew. Then she stood and turned in one swift movement, swinging her machete aimed straight for the neck of whoever it was.

Her blade stopped a half inch from his delicate and very human throat.

He was tall. Very tall. His own machete was held aloft, ready to strike. His eyes were wide and his mouth turned downwards.

"Your human," he said.

"So are you," she replied, monotone. He relaxed his machete and she returned the gesture stiffly, still prepared to defend herself if necessary.

Another man, this one a bit older and conserably shorter, entered silently. "Sammy?" he asked.

"Its fine Dean, she's human," Sam said.

Bayleigh narrowed her eyes. "You're the Winchesters," she said. 'I pictured Dean taller,' she thought to herself.

"Do we know you?" Dean asked defensively.

"No, but I knew your dad and Bobby Singer." She looked between the two of them, then said, "I have to go."

"Wait," Sam started, but she was already slipping past Dean out the door.

They exchanged glances, then Dean broke into a grin. "She was hot." Sam let out a breathy laugh and shook his even though he totally agreed.


	2. Episode 2: Shifter Madness

"You got anything?" Dean asked coming in with a six pack. He threw his keys on the table and handed Sam a beer, then got himself a peice of pie out of the fridge. Sam nodded from his place on the bed, computer resting in his lap.

"Yea. Im almost positive there's a shifter in Baltimore. It's the usual: good people doing bad things and not remembering it-"

Dean grunted. "Which could also be possession."

"Being in two places at once isn't possession."

Dean looked at Sam. "I hate shifters. They're gross."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's a leviathan."

"Shut up Sam." Sam smiled crookedly at his brother.

"Well look at this," Sam said, showing him a security cam picture. It was a young girl wearing a cheerleadjng uniform. Her eyes were glowing as she looked into the lense.

Dean scowled. "Great."

Bayleigh held her sleeve over her nose, trying to keep some of the horrible sewer smell out of her nostrils. 'Why would anything choose to live down here?' she wondered noting a pack of rodents scurry by. Her tiny flashlight didn't provide very much light, but anything more might alert whatever lived in the illuminated room ahead of her.

She slipped on something and almost fell. Her breath caught in her throat; it was skin. She was dealing with a shifter. In all of her years of hunting, she'd only ever encountered a shifter once and it was with her mentor barely two months after she'd first started. She pulled her silver knife out of it's sheath on her hip. Then she slunk into the room, not at all prepared for what she would find.

A voice rang out behind her.

It was a girl in her late teens in a blood covered cheerleadjng uniform. "Hi there," it said in an artificially sweet voice. " Aren't you a pretty one. I like you. A lot. This one's mind is cluttered with boys and cheers and dances and a huge-monsterous test that she won't get to turn in because shekilled her boyfriend- oh wait, that was me." It giggled and paused, waiting for a response, something humans usually did after her taunts. But none came, not even a witty hunter remark. "You dont talk much, do you?"

Suddenly, it lunged at her. Bayleigh wasn't expecting something in such a tiny body to hold so much force and was thrown to the floor. The monster kept one arm pressed up against Bayleigh's neck while the other pried the knife out of Bayleigh's hand. Before the knife was thrown across the room, a cut had been made on the creature's wrist. It hissed in pain, grabbed her head, and smashed it into the floor.

Everything went black.

When she came back, she found she was zip-tied to a pipe. Dried blood cracked on the back of her neck. Her arm was broken at the elbow and wrist. She tried to wriggle free, but the pain caused her to go unconcious again.

The next time she woke up, the monster was back, in the shape of an elderly woman. It was laughing about something.

"The Winchesters," it cackled. "They're coming here, to my lair, tomorrow. Isn't that just super exciting?"

Bayleigh groaned. The monster frowned

"Oh, Dear, are you in pain? That's just horrible," it said with false sympathy. But Bayleigh's mind was already numbing again and she knew she would be asleep soon.

Dean shook his head. "I can't even look at you." He bit into his burger and looked away.

"What?" Sam demanded, mouth full of salad.

Dean just shook his head and nodded towards a girl sitting alone at the end of the bar. "Don't we know her?"

Sam squinted his eyes and watched the girl. He knew he knew the face he just couldn't make the connection of where he'd seen her before. Suddenly, it hit him. "Oh, hey, its that girl," he said.

"Oh, yea, that girl. As if I, of all people, only know one girl."

"No the one from a couple weeks ago. The solo vamp."

"The one who knew Dad and Bobby and never told us her name."

"Yea."

"Well why don't you go ask her, Lover Boy," Dean snickered.

"Ask her what? Why Lover Boy?"

But she was already heading towards them, moving like a cat does when stalking prey. It made Dean uneasy.

"She would look so good half naked next to my baby," he said despite his impression of her. Sam nodded absently, not taking his eyes off her.

The girl plopped down in the bar stool next to Sam.

"Hello, boys," she said. "I dont think I properly introduced myself last time we met. I'm Bayleigh Quinn Thomas." She sipped her drink watching them, waiting.

"How did you know our Dad?" Dean asked.

"Once upon a time I was being eaten by vampires and your father and Bobby Singer swooped in and saved the day. But that's not important. I assume you two are here for the shapeshifter, right?" Sam nodded. "Well I found it's den," she said smiling. "I can take you guys there tomorrow if you want."

"That would be great," Sam said.

The look on her face made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, but he brushed it off reluctantly. No use starting shit with someone offering a great deal of assistance.

"Not much further," Bayleigh whispered. She gestured towards the glow at the end of the tunnel

They entered the room. Dean turned, hearing unintelligible shouts from a dark corner. His heart sank when he recognized the girl who'd been yelling, bound and gagged. There was a grunt and Sam was on the ground, the shape shitter lunging at Dean with a lead pipe in hand. He was almost immediately disarmed and realized his error in not getting ready until they were at the site; she'd seen where he put all of his weapons.

Without his weapons, he knew it would be useless to try to fight the shifter in hand to hand combat, so he did what came naturally: he ran. The shifter cackled evilly and followed, snickering and calling out his name with various obscenities.

Bayleigh finally pulled free of the zipties with a gasp and groan of pain. It had taken her hours to weaken and loosen them. She pulled the gag out of her mouth and stumbled over to Sam. She made sure his head wasn't bleeding, then started shaking him with her good arm.

"Winchester. Hey. Winchester. Sam!" He jerked awake, grabbing at anything he could, which turned out of be her broken wrist. She jerked it out of his grasp, intensifying the pain of her broken elbow, also. She clutched her arm to her chest and scooted away.

Sam leaned forward to apologize, but she waved him away. "Your brother's running from my other half right now," she hissed. He got the hint and took off.

She blinked back the mist in her eyes and held her arm to her chest until the pain subsided, then she got up and followed Sam's path down the sewer tunnel. She hadn't gone far when they loomed up ahead of her. She was hit with the odd sensation of an out of body experience as she looked down on the corpse of the shifter. She shivered.

"So I'm assuming you're the real Bayleigh," Dean said. She nodded.

"Thanks for saving my ass," she said. Dean nodded as Sam stepped forward.

"Your arm's broken?" he asked. She nodded again, glaring at it.

'Its gonna be a mess,' she thought bitterly. 'Ill probably have to get it casted and I'll be out for weeks.' She frowned.

"I hate to be rude, but my dog's been alone for three days." She waved, but as she turned to leave, a man in a trench coat appeared beside her. Her eyes widened and she fell back a step.

"Dean, Sam- why are you in a sewer?" Cas asked. (a/n: Oh Cas. I heart Cas) He turned to Bayleigh briefly, then back to the boys. They fell into a conversation that she had no way of understanding, so she waved again and turned to leave.

"Wait," Sam said to her. "Cas, can you help her?"

Bayleigh paused, not knowing what was going to happen. The man wordlessly approached her and placed a hand over her arm. It glowed slightly and tingled a bit, then went completely numb. When she regained feeling, there was absolutely no pain in her arm. At first, she hadn't even noticed the feeling returning, it felt so nice. Her brows furrowed together and she looked at him.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

He looked at her like he didn't understand why she would ask that question, the said, "I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord."

Bayleigh looked at Sam and Dean, confused, then left. She had no response to that.


	3. Episode 3: The Girl with Many Hats

Bayleigh was driving down the outskirts of Queens, on a deserted road that was filled with old abandoned multi-story buildings. She was on the hunt for a generic werewolf, and this is where his hunting grounds were.

She pulled up two blocks from an old apartment building. The kills usually occurred in the alley across the street. The only thing left in business was an emo-punk rock club in the basement of one of the buildings. She got out, her dog Coby jumping to the ground behind her. She hefted a duffel bag over her shoulder and they begand their ascent to the roof of the building.

These types of hunts were the only ones she would bring Coby on: the kinds where there was only a slim chance of him getting hurt. The only thing in life that she truly feared was having her dog killed by a monster.

The full moon was out. Bayleigh had her hair up and gloves on; she didn't like to leave behind any type of identification if possible. She watched the Impala pull up from the opposite side of the street she had. She groaned, wishing that they hadn't decided to take the job. Bayleigh tried to ignore how attractive the car was and focus on the job at hand.

The two men got out and trotted to the alleyway below her, facing the wolf's hunting grounds.

She shook her head and tensed her body, ready for action and praying that neither of them got in her way when the time came. Coby, sensing the severity of the following moment, retreated to a corner and sat, alert.

Sam held his gun at eye level and watched the girl leaving the club down the street. Dean was just inside the doorway of the building he was up against.

The girl screamed and he took off from his hiding place, trying to get a decent shot at the beast, but there was a shot before he could do anything. The wolf fell off the girl, dead.

Sam looked up and behind him, trying to find where the shot had come from. Bayleigh was looking over the edge of a building. When she saw him looking, she waved solemnly, then began packing up her sniper rifle. He turned back around. Dean was trying to comfort the poor girl, flashing his FBI badge. Sam went over to help the situation.

"It was Bayleigh," Sam said when they got back in the Impala after Cas had successfully wiped the girl's mind.

"What was who?"

"The person who shot the werewolf. It was Bayleigh Thomas."

Dean frowned at his brother. "There's something I don't like about that girl," he said. "She just gives me bad vibes."

Sam shrugged. "I think she's fine."

"Yea well that's cause you have the hots for her."

"So?"

"So nothing. I just don't like her."

"Like who?" Cas asked, appearing in the backseat.

"So what do you plan on doing later tonight?" the man asked. He was extremely sweet and didn't deserve to be her target, but the pickup needed gas, so she was forced.

"You know, I'm getting pretty tired, but I'm buzzed and could really use a ride home if you don't mind. It just right around the corner."

"Sure, no problem." The way he said it made her think for a second that it wasn't his main goal to get laid tonight, but then she remembered he was a man and decided that was probably wrong.

When she got to the motel, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek and pulled his wallet out of his pocket with practiced fingers. Then she wrote a fake number on his hand and retreated inside.

She smiled almost guiltily at how well she'd chosen her target when she pulled several hundred dollars in cash out of the wallet. She would leave it somewhere where it would be found the next day, minus the cash.

"Matthew Teller. Come out. I know what you did to your wife."

"I didn't mean to," a voice whimpered behind her. She turned around and blow torched him without a second glance.

She hated dealing with Rugarus. It wasn't their fault that they were this way; it was genetics, not choice. And they were always so desperate to be understood, so she killed them as quickly as she could. She didn't want to feel the feelings they made her feel. So, when she was done torching them, she just left, unable to look at the incinerated corpse.

Afterwards, she headed to a bar to do the two things that calmed her down after a kill like that: drinking and hustling men. She ordered a beer and watched her target; a young man in nice clothes trying to talk to an older lady who quite obviously thought he was a joke. He'd give up on her eventually and look for someone else and that someone else would probably be Bayleigh, from the way she noticed him notice her when she walked in.

A few minutes layer, the woman got up and left and he made his way over to Bayleigh. They started talking and she was almost ready to pull her favorite trick on him (the get him home, take his wallet, then yell at him for trying to objectify and use her when he tried to go further than just kissing). But then she was rudely interrupted by a deep voice to her right.

"Bayleigh!" Dean Winchester said. "How dare you! I thought we had something special!"

Bayleigh looked at him and gave him the most convincing look of confusion she could muster. It was obviously enough because the guy came to her defense. "Look, Bro, I dont know who you are, but this is Alex, not Bayleigh. You got the wrong girl."

"No I don't cause it's my sister," Dean lied easily, "and if you wanna keep your wallet, I'd leave right now. This one has sticky fingers."

He must've seen the truth in both Dean and Bayleigh's faces, because he took off without another word. Dean took his spot and Sam appeared and took the one behind him.

Bayleigh frowned at them and said, "If you guys are here for the rugaru, you're a little late."

"We know," Dean said bitterly.

"So then what?" she asked.

"This is the fourth time we've run into you in the last two months, not to mention the six times we've arrived right after you."

"I'm not seeing your point."

"The point is," Sam offered, "it's extremely unusual to accidentally run into a hunter so many times in such a short span of time. Actually, to accidentally run into them this many times period."

"Okay?" She still wasn't comprehending what the problem was.

"Okay so why do we keep running into you?" Dean demanded harshly. "Who are you?"

"My name is Bayleigh Thomas. I hunt monsters for a living. And I don't understand why you're so suspicious of me. I'm just doing my job. Maybe we wouldn't run into eachother so much if you found your own case load," she said, directing the last part specifically at Dean. Then she got up and left without another word.

"Find your own cases," Dean scoffed. "Does she even know who we are? We made half the cases she solves."

"Dean, that isn't something to be proud of at all." The thought of Eve's rise from purgatory still creeped him out.

"I'm not, I'm just saying; who the fuck died and gave her prerogative over us? No one, that's who." his hands gripped the steering wheel angrily. He stomped on the breaks suddenly as a car pulled out in front of him.

He slammed his hands down on the wheel, yelling, "SON OF A BITCH!" furiously at the car. He suddenly looked horrified at the wheel and touched it gently. "Aw, I didn't mean it, Baby."

But his precious Impala didn't miss a beat, purring just as seductively as ever.


	4. Episode 4: Three's a Crowd

Sam stirred. His brother was sitting in bed with Sam's laptop.

"What are you doing?" He noted the empty whiskey and beer bottles on the side table and bed around him. He briefly wondered where four bottles of whiskey came from.

"I found something. It's the least we've ever gone on, but I bet Bayleigh won't be there."

Sam sighed and leaned back against the pillows, then lifted his head back up. "What is it?" he asked slowly.

"Two suicides. A mom and a daughter within two weeks of eachother. Girl bit it, then mom followed."

"It couldn't have had anything to do with a grieving mother." Sam rolled over.

"But-"

"Goodnight, Dean."

When Sam woke up a few hours later, Dean was packing his things. He sat up, confused.

"Dude that wasn't a case."

"I'm not going there. Benny needs me for something."

Sam climbed out of bed. "Okay? I thought you dropped him."

"I'll be back in a couple weeks." He ignored the question and zipped up the duffel bag, heading for the door.

"What am I supposed to do for 'a couple weeks'?"

Dean turned back to him and shrugged thoughtfully, then said, "I think Casa Erotica is on pay per view." Then he slammed the door behind him. Sam swore loudly when the Impala rumbled sensually to life.

Bayleigh's phone vibrated against her thigh. She ignored it. Bayleigh wasn't the type of person to answer calls, not even from Garth; she only returned them.

She listened to the voicemail later that night.

'Bayleigh? It's Sam Winchester. Hey, I, uh, got your number from Garth, who told me you were up in the Dakotas-' last time she ever told Garth anything '-and well I'm pretty sure there's something along the lines of a lamia up there if you're interested. So call me back. Thanks. Bye.'

Bayleigh sighed and debated before reluctantly hitting the redial button.

"Yeah?"

"Winchester. It's Bayleigh Thomas."

"Oh, hey you got my message?"

'Obviously.' "Mmhmm."

"So... You wanna team up?"

"If you talked to Garth then he told you I work alone. I've turned him down hundreds of times."

"He mentioned it."

She paused. "What does your brother think about this?"

"Well I wouldn't know," Sam said bitterly. "He pretty much left me stranded in Wyoming with no mode of transportation and no way to reach him."

"So this is to get back at him."

"What? Uh, no."

"Sam. I know a lie when I hear one. Dean doesn't like me and it's painfully obvious you don't like whoever he ran off with. So... I'll go with you."

"Really?"

"Yes. Just tell me where it is and I'll meet you there."

"Hey, um, how about a ride? Like I said, no mode of-"

"Text me your hotel and I'll be there in two days." the phone clicked off.

"Fucking Winchesters," she said stripping naked for a shower. "Even their dad was a pain in the ass." Coby, watching carefully, whined sympathetically.

A hulking grey Dodge pickup rumbled down the road and slowed to the stop in the parking lot of a motel somewhere two hours south of Cheyenne. There it idled for about five minutes before Sam got into it, much to the dismay of Coby, who had to give up his seat for this giant stranger. Not to mention, he probably wouldn't have Bayleigh to himself for a week now. The shorthair didn't like it at all.

"Hi," Sam said. Bayleigh just looked at him and spun the volume dial on her iPod. He took the hint and sat back into his seat, listening to her music. It wasn't what he expected from her at all. Besides the classics like Tom Petty, Led Zeppelin, and The Beatles, there was a mixture of what he could only describe as alternative, indie, and some modern southern and even folkish rock. It was exactly the opposite of what he'd imagined her listening to, and he found himself enjoying it.

Besides the music, the ride was pretty much silent. Bayleigh didn't say a word until around ten when they needed to pull over to find a place to sleep.

Bayleigh was the first one awake. She shook Sam awake. Her hair was wet and smelled like coconut shampoo.

"I'm going out to get coffee and food. What do you want?"

"Coffee black," he groaned, sitting up. "I'll eat anything."

She nodded. "Be ready in twenty minutes." She left without another word.

Sam rolled out of bed and went to shower. The bathroom was still steamy from Bayleigh's shower. He washed and got out.

Coby was sitting by Bayleigh's duffel bag, staring at him with a look that could set ice on fire.

There was something weird about this dog. Something off that Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. Maybe it was the way he was so protective of Bayleigh, almost humanly so. Sam frowned and went back to getting dressed , still unable to fight this eery feeling he got from the dog.


	5. Episode 5: Too Close for Comfort

"So I'm assuming you have an idea of how to kill this thing," Bayleigh said. "The silver knife doesn't work very well."

"Uhm, yea, I do." He nodded and they fell into silence again when he failed to elaborate. The music played softly in the background as they watched whom they suspected to be a lamia get her hair done. The song was one of the happier songs, the kinds he wouldn't suspect from a girl like her. But he enjoyed it.

Sam watched her. As he did, he realized that he knew just about nothing about her.

"How did you start?" he asked.

"Start what?"

"Hunting."

"It's a long story," she replied quietly.

"We have time." He nodded toward the salon, where the huge front windows revealed the lamia getting pulled out of the wash station.

Bayleigh sighed. "Fine. I guess it started when I was fifteen. I was on the wrong side of a human trafficking ring controlled by vampires. It was really well organized. We figure it's why hunters think the race is dying out; vampires connected with the ring don't need to hunt any more so they go unnoticed."

"We who?" Sam asked. Bayleigh glared at him for the interruption and he took the hint and shut up.

"Anyways, your dad and Bobby wiped out the nest that was holding me and a couple other girls. They pulled us out and questioned us. They let the other girls go home, but I had nowhere to go, so I went home with Bobby and lived there for a while. Then after I begged him to teach me to hunt, he sent me to go hunt with a Hunter. I think you knew him. Rufus."

Sam nodded sadly. "I was there when he died."

Bayleigh looked at her hands. "Thats how I started. We hunted together for seven years, then he set me off on my own. And here I am."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, then said, "Well I'd tell you my story, but everyone already seems to know."

"It's no secret how the Winchesters got their start." She looked at him. "I assume you know about the books?"

He laughed. "Yea. It's... It's interesting."

Bayleigh nodded and was silent again, wondering which part he was referring to- the books or his story. She turned up the radio slightly to a song that made him think of Dean.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and played Dean's ringtone. 'Speak of the devil,' he thought, hitting the ignore button.

"Not speaking to the older brother?"

"Nope."

"So who did he leave you for? What was her name?"

"Benny."

Bayleigh furrowed her brows. "Your brother didn't strike me as gay."

Sam laughed. "He isn't. Benny's the one who got him out of him from purgatory."

She frowned. "What kind of monster is he?" Bayleigh asked dully.

"A vampire." She frowned and nodded.

"I understand," she said softly.

Something at the base of his spine seemed to relax and he exhaled slowly. But for Bayleigh, the moment was already past. She watched the lamia getting it's hair blown dry and styled. Not long later, it left and got in a cherry red convertible. She started up the Dodge and followed it.

They followed the car to a warehouse lot in the middle of town. It parked outside a storage box. Bayleigh parked on the road. Sam pulled a ziplock bag out of his pocket with a mixture of rosemary and salt in it.

"What's that for?"

"If it turns out this is the lamia, then we have to throw this on her and torch her." Bayleigh nodded slowly. She pulled her gun out of her weapons duffel and cocked it. "What's that for? Silver doesn't work on it."

"It isn't silver. It's just in case. As is this." She pulled a couple knives out and handed him one. He accepted it and they got out.

The sun was setting. It was getting dark quickly and as they neared the lamia, they heard the muffled yells of a gagged person.

He looked over his shoulder at her, half expecting to see Dean, and she held up her blowtorch. He gripped the can of gasoline in his hand and turned back to the lamia. It was hefting a body out of the trunk and up over her shoulder. It walked confidently inside the storage container.

They tiptoed forward slowly, slipping through the opening. Bayleigh closed it behind them with a metallic click and the lamia turned from tying up her victim to look at them.

"Desert!" it cheered.

Sam and Bayleigh looked at each other. They had to get the lamia as far away from her victim as possible so they wouldn't light him on fire, too. 'Though,' Bayleigh thought, 'he looks young enough to withstand some burns.' he looked no older than eighteen.

"Let the kid go," Sam said stiffly.

"Make me." Bayleigh moved slightly and got what she wanted. The lamia shot after her, away from the kid. As the lamia pounced on her, Sam threw his salt mixture and gasoline on her. Bayleigh let the lamia catch her, grinning grimly and twisting beneath the creature so her blowtorch was aimed at the wet patch made by the gas. The lamia lit up like dry leaves.

She rolled away from the dying monster, shaking slightly from that giddy high she always got from a seriously close encounter in a hunt.

Sam rushed forward, beating at her arm and she realized it was on fire. At the same time she noticed something poking out of her other arm. She pulled it out.

"A souvenir." She presented Sam with the claw, barely aware of the pain she was still in. He shook his head at her.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm great," she smiled. He frowned a little bit, but just shrugged it off and went to help the boy.

They were relaxing in the motel room later that night. Bayleigh had her headphones on and Sam was doing something on his laptop. His phone buzzed with Dean's ringtone again.

"Maybe you should answer it," Bayleigh suggested, pulling one earphone out.

Sam shook his head and hit ignore. "No." She sighed and took out the other bud.

"I get that your brother ditched you for a monster, but you have to trust his judgement, right? I mean, how long has he been hunting? He knows what he's doing."

"Well it's not just that."

"Then explain."

Sam shook his head, then said, "When he went to purgatory, I didn't look for him. I was alone. Bobby was dead, Dean and Cas were nowhere to be found, and a demon took the kid I was supposed to be protecting. I had nothing. So I ran. And then I hit a dog and found love and then a year later Dean comes back. I don't know how or why, but he did. And the first thing he does after making sure I was human was bitch at me for making a life, the exact thing he did when I threw myself into Lucifer's cage. Ever since he came back, he's been guilt tripping me with the fact that I didn't get him out of purgatory."

"Well that's shitty and all but-"

"Its not all. This isn't the first time he left me without an explanation. The last time we were convinced he was killing again and Dean tricked me into thinking my ex-girlfriend was dying to get me off his back. Right before that he pretty much told me Benny was like the trustworthy brother he'd never had." Bayleigh frowned. "And then he told me that he was done. Benny was on his own. But now, with one phone call, Dean's run off again."

This time it was her phone that rang. She ignored it without checking the caller ID and let it go to voicemail.

"Who is it that you're ignoring?" Sam asked.

She shrugged. "The world. I don't answer it. I wait to see who it is and call them back."

Her phone buzzed again, signaling a voicemail. She picked it up and listened to it, then stood and walked out the door mumbling something about having to return this.

"Bayleigh?"

"Why did you call me, Dean?"

"Is Sammy with you?"

"Yes."

"Is he okay?".

"He's fine."

"Can I talk to him?"

"No." She shook her head and thought, 'Fucking Winchesters', then said, "Look, He should have looked for you when you were in purgatory. And you shouldn't leave him for a vampire. You both fucked up. Now you both need to grow a pair, hug it out, and get the fuck over it. I like the guy, but I like my alone time even more and I am not about to give that up for him. Plus, my dog doesn't like him."

Dean was silent for a second. "Okay," he said finally. "I'll call him."

"Good." She hung up and stomped inside.

Sam's phone rang as she slammed the door behind her. "Answer it."

"But it's De-"

"Answer the fucking phone."

He answered it slowly and left the room. Bayleigh collapsed on the bed and patted the mattress next to her. Coby jumped up and buried his face in her side, doing a little doggy groan. She imitated the sound with a small smile.

"Oh, Coby," she whispered, "you never annoy me." She stroked his soft back. He whined huskily and she rolled over, engulfing him in her arms, groaning as her muscles stretched happily, and her arms wrapped around the dog, folding his skin between her fingers. The dog exhaled and licked her face, pressing his nose into her cheek.

Before she knew it she was fast asleep.


	6. Episode 6: Why Me?

Bayleigh woke to someone shaking her shoulder. She looked around. It was still dark. Coby's body quivered with a growl at the hulking figure standing over her. She tightened her grip around him.

"I'm taking off," Sam's voice said from above her.

"You patched things up with your brother."

"Yea. Thanks."

She stretched and nodded. "I like you. But quiet time is my favorite." She was still half asleep.

He laughed. "I'll see you later."

"Mmmm. Goodbye Sam Winchester. "

"Bye Bayleigh Thomas."

She followed the ghoul soundlessly through the graveyard, then pounced, killing it easily. It hadn't even seen her coming. She wiped her machete on the grass and left, walking the few blocks to where she left her car and Coby waiting. She slid into the drivers seat and kissed Coby on the head. He leaned into her as she started the car and took off down the road toward the highway.

On her way out of town, she passed the Impala. She watched in the rearview mirror as Dean swung the car in an illegal u-turn; she grudgingly pulled over to the side of the road.

"C'mon, Dean. Don't be rude."

"I'm not, I just wanted to ask her if she got the the ghoul before we did."

"You know she did." But Dean was already getting out to meet Bayleigh on the side of the road. Sam followed.

"Sam," she said smiling the tiniest bit.

"Hey Bayleigh."

"I imagine you're after the ghoul," she turned her focus to Dean.

"I imagine we're already too late," he replied.

She nodded. "Is that all? I'm on my way south."

"What for?" Sam asked. It had been a month since they'd paired up and he had enjoyed it; he wanted to do it again.

"Garth called me on a job that no one else wanted to take. Something called a Burburu? He didn't explain it very well."

Dean laughed. "You're gonna have a great time with that one."

"What is it?"

"We killed one a couple years ago," Sam said. "They're pretty much just ghosts, but like really terrified ghosts that can infect people with the Ghost Sickness. Dean was lucky enough to experience the symptoms first hand." He smiled at his big brother.

"What are the symptoms?" Bayleigh asked, all business.

"Well, it only ever effects douche bags-" Bayleigh looked at Dean and smiled a bit, understanding "-and then they get paranoid, then scared, then so scared that they have a heart-attack."

Bayleigh frowned. "A ghost, you said?"

"Yea." Dean nodded.

"I don't do ghosts, usually." She frowned. Garth knows that.

"We can help," Sam said. "We'll come with you."

Bayleigh looked between the brothers, frowning. Dean was glaring at Sam and she had the urge to go just to spite him. So she did.

"I'll go. We can meet up in the morning. Call me." The first half was directed at Dean to let him know she was just doing it to piss him off, the second to Sam because he had her number.

Sam smiled as she climbed back up into her truck.

"What'd you do that for?" Dean demanded, starting up the Impala.

"I thought she could use some help."

Dean just shook his head and shot up the road towards town, following the silver Dodge.

Bayleigh knelt by the grave, frowning into the flames. She looked at her hands, dirt crusted underneath her finger nails and in the creases of her palm. There was a clank behind her as Sam threw the tin fuel can and salt into the back of the pickup. It had been a unanimous decision that Dean sit out on this one, considering what happened last time. Bayleigh and Sam were more than capable of handling a ghost.

She fell back into her thoughts. She stared into the flames, watching them burn down until they were just small, feeble wisps barely strong enough to provide heat. Sam put a hand on her shoulder. She stood, her muscles stretching and she realized she must have been there like that for an hour or more. They silently filled in the hole and threw the shovels in the bed of the pickup.

But Bayleigh didn't want to go back yet. She didn't want to go anywhere or do anything. She just wanted to sit and watch the sky. And she especially didn't want to go back to see Dean.

"I understand why I don't like ghosts," she said quietly, leaning against the truck. Sam joined her.

"Why?"

"Because it's not their fault. With monsters... Being a monster is a choice. There is no absolute need to kill humans. There are plenty of ways to get around it. With ghosts... They just died. It's not their fault, and it's sad that they have to turn out this way." She shook her head.

"What about demons? You don't hunt demons either, do you?"

She shook her head. "I don't trust myself with demons. I'm always terrified that I won't be able to save the meat suit it's riding. And then I'll have an innocent death on my hands. I may not be what one would consider a people person, but what's the point of it all if you don't save people?"

She watched his face as he looked at the ground. It was soft and yet sharp in all the right places. And those eyes- you could drown in them. They were deep and bottomless and warm, but they were the eyes of a hunter; eyes that had seen more in the last few years than most had to see in their lives. And yet they were kind. Like his smile, always so sincere and inviting. Those lips, oh those lips, perfectly sculpted just waiting for someone else's to touch them. She wondered what it would be like to kiss them, but immediately shot that down. Her and Sam were as different as night and day. Black and white. 'Silence and noise,' she thought with amusement.

"What?" he asked, noticing the small smile playing at her lips. But she just shook her head.

"Bayleigh..."

"What?"

"Why do you choose to be alone all the time?"

She paused, thinking about her answer. Then she replied, "I just don't really like people. I guess. I mean, well, I've always been sort of a pessimist. Sometimes I look at the world around me and feel disgusted. I think that's why I feel so alive when I hunt. Not because I save people. Not at all. I just feel like it's the only place I really belong." She paused. "And having a companion, a human one, puts me under the pressure that I use hunting to get away from." She frowned. "I... I feel like if I ever were to have one, they would have to be special. Patient." She let out a small breathy laugh. "Incredibly patient. And willing to leave if I ask them to. And understand if I did." Sam nodded.

"Oh."

Now he was close. She could see the light dewey frost coating his skin from the cold humid night. She knew what was coming before he did. When he kissed her, it was like he accepted her terms to companionship, and part of her was ecstatic.

The kiss started out soft. Just a small little peck as light as a feather over her lips, then a real kiss. Where, after a second, her lips parted and he bit one of them, a playful nip that turned the whole situation into something else. Something hotter and heavier and she found a new side of Sam. This Sam was coarse and strong and rough and almost animal, pushing her into the Dodge and biting her lip again, then leaving a trail of warm kisses down her throat and biting her neck. His hands had started at her hips, stroking the soft flesh above her jeans. They were now pulling her shirt up, running his fingers down her spine while hers played with his hair. She arched her back and groaned, pulling his face back up to hers.

Her face burned red as she rested her head on his shoulder. She was sitting on the tailgate with her legs wrapped around his waist.

"That was fun," he whispered hoarsely. She nodded and yawned. "Do you want to go back?"

"No but we should." She lifted her head, glad for the darkness. "I'm afraid to see what your brother has done to my dog."

"You're tired. I'll drive." she glared at him but handed him the keys anyways. They got in the car and she turned the iPod to Ramble On by Led Zeppelin, letting the road and the music move her body slightly. Sam was smiling at her as he sped towards the motel.

Bayleigh let her eyes drift half closed, Tom Petty's Runnin Down a Dream the only thing keeping her awake. She'd left early the next morning on two hours of sleep. She expected a call eventually from Sam, probably a 'When am I going to see you again' call.

It hadn't been a good idea to kiss him. Not at all.

But then hadn't she just said what her conditions were? Shouldn't he expect this kind of thing, knowing who she is and hearing what she said? He should. That's why he took the risk, knowing he could very well get his heart crushed.

But then why did she do it? Why would she do something like that, putting herself into a situation that put strain on her already tense existence? Was her subconscious trying to tell her something? That she was ready for this type of relationship? She knew she could never settle down. Not permanently, at least. So maybe this was the best solution. Someone who was in the same situation.

Bayleigh stopped herself. What was she thinking? She couldn't get into any relationship. Why was she even considering it? So he's perfect, everything she would ever want and need in another human. That doesn't mean it's a good idea to jump his bones the next time she saw him.

Plus, she wasn't even thinking of him. What if didn't want her. But he kissed you. But you also know from personal experience how lonely hunting can be and how you'll look for comfort anywhere, even in sone strange girl you barely know. Just because you felt something doesn't mean he did.

She slammed her foot down on the breaks. Coby lifted his head from her lap, curious. She put her head in her hands. Her brain felt as if it were preparing to implode.

Finally she couldn't take it any longer, so she turned up the music as loud as it would go to the loudest song she could find. Then she screamed. As loud and hard as she could. She screamed until she was hoarse and panting and tears pricked her eyes.

Coby was looking at her with worried eyes that also seemed to say, 'I told you not to team up with the Winchesters.' She frowned and pressed her forehead against his.

"You're the only man I need," she whispered. He whined very slightly and licked her cheek.

When she calmed down, she took off again. She drove all day long then got a room in a shady roadside motel. Almost as soon as she put her stuff down her phone rang. It buzzed a few times then quit. The caller ID said Sam.

She sighed and called him back.

The first thing he said was, "Are you alone?"

"Of course I'm alone, who do you think I-"

He cut her off. "I mean alone alone. Like not with your dog."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why-"

"Just please."

"Okay. Hold on." She patted Coby on the head and walked out the door and through the parking lot, then down the highway. "Okay, what?"

"Have you ever thought there was something weird about your dog?" Dean's voice asked. "Like, uncanny in the way he reacts to you. Like he understands you."

"Why are you asking me this-"

"Has he ever seemed..." Sam paused.

"Human," Dean interjected.

Bayleigh frowned, then frowned harder. "Shit." She put a hand over her mouth. "I'm such a fucking idiot. Oh my God. Shit."

"Bay, it's-"

"Fuck, Sam, how could I not- shit-" She pressed a hand against her forehead. "My dog is a fucking skinwalker, isn't he?"

.:...:.

**Hey, if you're wondering why I'm posting these like five at a time, I'm not like this fast of a writer, I just have it pre-written. Season 3 of this is actually due out April 1st of 2013. So yea. Hope you like. Comment or review or whatever it is. Thank you and have a wonderful life(:**


	7. Episode 7: Why They Call it Sacrifice

Bayleigh sat on the side of the road, trying to calm her shaking muscles. Sam and Dean would be there in less than an hour- they'd apparently followed her- but she couldn't just wait for them there. She had to go confront him.

She stood slowly, testing out her legs, then walked back to the hotel room. She pulled the sheet off the bed and held it up, looking Coby in the eye.

"You can either shift back for me here or wait until the Winchesters get here." A look of utter and bare sadness passed through his eyes as she threw the sheet at him.

Bayleigh threw up her hands, turning away, yelling, "I trusted you. I trusted you and you were a monster!" She turned back around and fell back a step, stunned.

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had to be as tall if not taller than Sam, with chocolate brown hair and deep liquid black eyes. He was lean and muscled, much the way you would expect a dog to look. His hair was longish, wavy and cut just behind his ears. He wasn't clean shaven and yet there wasn't enough facial hair to be considered a beard. He had high cheekbones and thin, severe lips. His nose was slightly upturned in a way that made him look elfin. She became suddenly afraid to admit how handsome he was.

"Bayleigh," he said. "Bayleigh it's still me." His voice was rich and smooth, with a soft British accent. "I'm still your dog. I'm still Coby."

"No you're not. You're sick." She was becoming painfully aware of all the times she had slept next to him, told him feelings and secrets, bared her soul to him. Gotten naked in front of him. "Why- what the- Aaaah!" she threw up her hands in frustration, hot tears threatening to spill out. He stood, clutching the sheet around his waist.

"Please, Bayleigh. Please. I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"Like this or at all?" she demanded.

He looked at her with a look of shame that made her knees weak. She sighed and said, "I don't even know your real name."

"Rye," he murmured. "Rye Kelly." he reached up to touch her arm, but she flinched away.

"Don't touch me. You lied to me. You betrayed me. You let me trust you. You're a terrible person. Anyone else... anyone else might be able to forgive you for what you did."

"I know Bayleigh. Its why I didn't want to tell you."

"So you just let me think you were a fucking dog instead." He gave a tiny nod and looked at the floor.

"Why'd you do it?" she asked after a second. He looked up at her, stunned.

"Isn't it obvious?" She narrowed her eyes. "I'm in love with you." The air slipped out of her lungs in a huge wave and she had trouble getting it back in.

"What?"

"Please," he whispered, reaching for her again. This time she let him. He gripped her shoulder and squeezed, then tucked some hair behind her ear and touched her cheek. "Bayleigh."

"Coby- Rye... My head hurts."

Bayleigh groaned and sat down at the table, pulling away from his touch. She put her head in her hands and sat there for a moment, letting it all sink in. Someone started banging on the door.

"Bay? It's us," Sam's voice called from the other side of the door. 'That was fast,' she thought, standing quickly to let them in. Rye was standing exactly where shed left him, by the bed clutching the sheet around his waist.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked immediately. Dean walked past his brother, glaring at Rye with a silver knife in his hand.

"Yea, I'm fine-"

"You stay away from her, Winchester," Rye growled in a startlingly animalistic voice.

"I would shut up if I were you, Fido," Dean sneered. Rye was tensed, ready to pounce.

"Quit it," Bayleigh said to him.

"I can't let you run around with them like this. They're known even amongst us as bad news. Do you know how many times they've died, how many of their friends and family that have died because of 'em? Ever wonder how Bobby bit it? That one even told you he was there when Rufus died."

"And how many innocents have you killed, Rover?" Dean demanded. "Started as just a nip, then you got hungry." Rye's eyes widened a little bit. "How many times have you fantasized about Bayleigh's heart on a silver platter?" He suddenly bared his teeth at Dean.

"Never."

"Well you've got quite the torch for her, don't you."

"Fuck you-"

"How many people, Rye?" Bayleigh asked.

He turned to her, eyes wide. "I didn't have a choice, Love."

"How many?"

"I don't-"

"Answer the damn question, Rye. How many people have you killed?"

"Twelve."

Bayleigh flinched. "Theres always a choice," she hissed.

"When was the last time you killed?" Sam asked gruffly.

"What's it to you?"

"Quit beating around the bush," Bayleigh said fiercely, her eyes red.

"I haven't killed since I met Bayleigh. Though there are a few stressed morticians," he said.

"How long is that?" Sam asked Bayleigh.

"Three years."

"What're you thinking, Sammy," Dean asked slowly.

"I'm thinking we don't have to kill him."

"What do you mean?" Dean demanded as Rye said, "Goliath may have a point." Bayleigh sat at the table, numb.

"I mean as long as he stays clean then it's the same situation as Benny. If he hasn't killed in three years, then what's going to make him start now."

Dean looked between his brother and Rye, his gaze finally landing on Bayleigh. "I guess it's up to her."

"I don't care what you do with him. I just don't want him with me anymore."

"But Bayleigh-"

"I'm sorry, Rye. I told you. Go lie to someone else."

He looked at her with bottomless sad eyes, then shifted, leaving the sheet on the ground underneath him. Sam let him out the door. She pressed her palms against her eyes.

"I'd like to be alone now. I'll call you in the morning." She heard the door open and close again. She stripped to just her underwear and crawled into bed and shivered herself to sleep.

She was woken by someone knocking on her door. She pulled on a t shirt and some shorts and answered it. It was Sam.

"Hey. I just came by to check on you," he said.

"I'm fine," she said, standing aside so he could come in. She closed the door behind him.

"Well, Dean wants to get breakfast and then take off. Do you need anything before we leave?"

She looked at him for a second, then said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but can I come with you? Hunting?"

Sam nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

"Yea." She looked up at him. Then, almost on instinct, she stepped forward and kissed him, gripping the back of his neck.

His lips responded immediately, pushing back with matched force. Their tongues wrestled for dominance as he picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. He was tugging her shirt over her head before she knew it, and his was close behind.

Suddenly, The door flew open. Coby, or Rye, had separated Bayleigh and Sam and was viciously biting Sam, pinning him to the ground. Bayleigh reached for her gun. There was a shot and Rye was dead. Dean stood in the doorway, his handgun aloft.

"You're sure you're okay," Sam asked, shoulder tensed under her fingers.

She nodded. "Relax." She drug the needle through his shoulder, sewing up the terrible gash her dog had left stretching from the base of his neck in a long curve to just under his tattoo. It was the deepest of the scratches, and everything other than that was just puncture wounds his teeth. "You're going to need antibiotics. Just in case."

He watched her slide the needle through his chest in the kind of sick fascination that's present during a car crash. He marveled at how expertly she did it, every stitch even and perfect. Her fingers were warm, drenched in his blood.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. She shook her head.

"No. I should have known he wouldn't leave just like that. He... he told me he loved me." Sam watched her face contort from concentration to sadness. She tied off the thread and bathed his shoulder and poured some hydrogen peroxide over it, then wrapped it.

Dean stomped in, dirt under his finger nails. "It's been taken care of. We should take off before anyone else gets excited about the gunshot," he said. The owner of the hotel had come to investigate and had reluctantly left when the situation was explained as simply as possible. Sam pulled his shirt over his head. Bayleigh threw the rest of her stuff and went to get in the driver's seat.

"Let me drive," Sam said.

"Your arm..." She drifted off, then handed him the keys. She silently got in the passenger seat and let him drive, the Impala gleaming in front of them.


	8. Episode 8: In Memory

**This episode was written in memory of my dog, who passed away the day it was posted. **

.:...:.

"Who is this?" Sam asked.

Bayleigh turned down the music slightly. "The Dangerous Summer. They're one of my Favorites."

He nodded. "I like them."

Despite Sam's almost overwhelming presence beside her, without Coby, the car felt empty. But Sam did a good job of distracting her, in more ways than one. He proved to be a very interesting conversation when their lips were free. He was a lot smarter than she had originally thought. Well, she knew he did a lot of the research for himself and Dean and that he had gone to a college in California, but he wasn't just brains smart. He was... witty smart. And he made her laugh.

But there was still that nag. That sad lonely emptiness she felt when she rolled over and didn't meet warm fur against her spine. It had been two weeks and she still wasn't any closer to getting used to it.

Sam looked at her sideways. He always seemed to know when she was caught up in those kinds of thoughts. It was like an internal sensor went off and he knew exactly how to comfort her, whether it was putting a hand on her when she was driving, or pressing his perfect lips against her throat or mouth. She always felt better.

The impala pulled off the road in front of them and into a parking lot situated in front of a skeezy motel. They climbed out and checked in, Bayleigh throwing her stuff down on her bed. She half expected to hear the creak of bedsprings as she put her various toiletries in the scummy bathroom, but instead heard the quiet knock that was becoming a regular occurrence. She walked to answer it. It was Sam, of course. He greeted her with a half smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"What can I do to make you feel better," he asked, sitting at the table.

"About what?"

"You know what."

Bayleigh sighed. "Sam, I-"

"I know you don't want to talk about it, that's why I'm not asking you to. I'm asking how I can help."

Bayleigh shrugged. "I don't think you can any more than you have. You're doing a fine job. Gimme a second."

"How long is a second?" he asked playfully, pulling her down into his lap.

"Sam," and then she looked up at him with the most desperate eyes. He felt her pain as a sharp stab in his side. He wrapped his arms tightly around her small body and pulled her closer.

"Just stay," she whispered against his shoulder. And he did.

Bayleigh woke up in the middle of the night, shaking violently. Sam stirred when she sat up.

"Are you okay?" he asked groggily.

She nodded. "Go back to sleep," she whispered.

"Are you?"

She contemplated for a minute, then returned to her position by his side and nodded. She didn't sleep, though. Not even when his quiet snoring resumed.

This wasn't the first night she'd woken up. This was just one if the milder ones. Most of them she woke up choking out a strangled scream and gasping for air. This was almost a comfort compared to the previous ones. She liked to think it was Sam that made the difference. Had he known, she thought he probably would have agreed.

"Oh, God. Aaaaaah holy mother of fucker aaaah shit," Bayleigh groaned. She was curled into a tight ball on the end of the bed.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam asked frantically.

"I'm a fucking woman that's what's wrong. I don't want kids, I don't need to practice for them." She let out another groan and pulled her knees closer. "Please, in my bag in the bathroom- oh god- there's a heat sock- fuck. Will you put it in the microwave?"

A few minutes later she was laying flat on her back with the hot sock over her tummy. Her eyes were closed against the light and she was murmuring a thank you at Sam. He just smiled and went to open the door upon request by some angry knocking.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Dean demanded.

"The fucking female race," was Bayleigh's response from the bed.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you got knifed."

"Fuck off." She was a lot more vocal when she was PMSing. Sam was trying to decide if that was a good thing.

Dean put up his hands. "If we want to make Florida by tomorrow we have to leave now."

Bayleigh groaned and rolled off the bed, clutching the sock to her stomach. She tossed Sam the keys to the dodge and grabbed her duffel with her free hand. "You have to drive."


	9. Episode 9: When Dreaming Gets Drastic

"Why aren't you riding with Bayleigh?" Dean asked as they passed along the outskirts of Miami after lunch.

"She wanted to be alone for a minute," Sam said.

"So you really like her."

"Yea. Yea I think I do."

"Not to be rude, but why?"

Sam shrugged. "Well she's funny and smart and-"

"You're being cliche."

Sam frowned. "I am," he said despairingly. "But it's all true. And the circumstances... They really couldn't be better."

"How so?" Dean looked at his brother from the corner of his eye.

"Well, you know we," he waved a finger between him and Dean, "are never going to settle down. And neither is Bayleigh. Apparently, after she found out about Rufus, she tried. And you and I both tried once. And I think it's been made obvious that it doesn't work that way, so maybe me and Bayleigh can never settle down together." Dean nodded slowly, hearing the logic in his brother's argument.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Are you sure, though?"

"She already explained to me her... Her terms, I guess you can call them."

"Huh. And what were those?"

"Just that she's a drifter so I have to be prepared for her to leave if she has to."

"And what're you gonna do if she does leave?"

Sam paused. "I guess I'm kinda hoping that'll never happen. This is the closet thing I'll ever get to an apple pie life and I'm not going to miss it on doubts and maybe's ." Dean nodded again.

"How's she holding up after I killed her dog?"

"Worse than she let's on, but she's handling it. She knows I'm here."

"Do you... do you think I should buy her another one?" Dean asked quietly.

"Would you want another dog after that?"

Dean laughed shortly. "No. No I wouldn't."

She tiptoed through the dark hallway and down the stairs. There was a faint light up ahead. Bayleigh turned around to make sure the guys noticed, but they were gone. She looked through the gloom, wide-eyed.

A string of curses ran through her mind. She whirled around at the whisper of footsteps. Nothing. Then there was more from towards the light. She lifted her arm, her lamb's blood-covered knife held high and a drip of blood rolling down her forearm. (a/n: have you figured out what kind of monster it is yet?)

Suddenly, something grabbed her from behind. She spun, coming face to face with glowing blue eyes against a heavily tattooed face. She slashed down with her knife and connected with a shoulder.

Her last thought was, 'Fucking harmless spot,' and then everything went black.

An alarm clock beeped loudly beside her head.

Bayleigh woke up, flinging her hand under her pillow for her gun but found nothing. She hit the off button and looked around.

She was in a warm comfy bed that was way too soft to belong to a motel. The door at the end of the bed was slightly ajar. All she heard through the door was a shower running. To her right, a closet stood open with both men and women's clothes.

She sat up in bed. Her shoulders felt relaxed, a sensation she hadn't realized she'd been missing out on for a while.

She stood up in wonder and touched the expensive-looking clothes with her fingers, perfectly manicured and painted a deep purple. The door opened a little bit more and a tiny gray-faced Boston terrier ran through, nudging her ankles and taking off. She followed the dog slowly.

It led her to a tiny kitchen attached to a sparsely-furnished yet homey and comfy looking living room. Coffee was brewing in a crimson coffee-maker in the counter. The dog was pawing at the pantry door. She opened it slowly. She pulled a can of dog food off the shelf and followed the dog over to a plate on the ground.

"You're up," a voice said behind her. Sam.

He looked exactly the same, except not as tan or muscled, more lean; thin and yet defined. All he was wearing was a towel.

"Sam. Thank, god. What's going on?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "Well you're about to over feed Penny." He took the can and emptied half of it into the dish. Then he looked back up at her. "What? You look like you've seen a ghost." He smiled lightly, a playful grin that she hadn't yet seen on his face. "Don't worry love," he wrapped his arms around her, "I'll protect you."

His lips met hers with an unexpected force. His kisses were rough... But this was different. It's not that she didn't like it, but it made her realize how careful he'd been with her before.

He pulled away, the smile still playing at his lips.

"What's wrong?" His arms tightened around her.

"Sam- I'm so confused. What are we doing here?"

He cocked his head to the side. "We live here." He paused. "You okay?"

Bayleigh shook her head. "No... What-"

His mouth started forming words, a word, but no sound was coming out.

"What are you-?"

An then she heard it. Her name. His voice, but not coming from his mouth. She heard it, but it was like she was listening to it through ear buds, not out loud.

"Bayleigh! Bayleigh, wake up," Sam said, touching her face. She stirred under his fingers.

"What the fu- Sam what happened?"

"The djinn. He got you."

Bayleigh's heart sank. It was only a dream. None of it was real. That sad sense of peace she felt, the contentedness, how she had trouble remembering all of her troubles.

She gripped Sam's forearm tightly. "How long?"

"Just now. Seconds ago. Why?"

"Because it felt like ten minutes." She looked at the ground, then at the djinn. Dean was standing over it, the hilt of his knife sticking out it it's heart, hers out of it's shoulder. She took a moment to be proud of how deep she had been able to stick the knife in while being attacked.

"You good?" Sam asked.

She snapped her attention back to him, nodded, and accepted his hand up.

.:...:.

**By the way, **

**As I'm re-reading this, I realize I did a shitty job of portraying Sam and Dean. It's why I'm not really one for writing fan fiction. But I do promise that Season 2 is a lot better at it. What I have of Season 3 is even more so. I'm growing as a writer, so bare with me. And also, I apologize for the shit ton of fucking bad god damned language...**

**No I'm not. **


	10. Episode 10: What Has to be Done

Bayleigh climbed out of the dodge, quivering from her latest near-death experience with the Amazon women. They had wiped out a small tribe on the Mexican border. Small being just seven women. One had caught her and left long scratches down her back. Dean had laughed with her afterwards, saying it looked like she'd had some really good sex. Meanwhile, Sam wrung his hands nervously and inquired after her health and safety every few seconds; at least it seemed that way to her.

Now Sam followed her into the hotel room, putting his hands on her hips. He didn't know what he thought of her like this. She seemed almost happy that she just about died. Like this is what she lived for.

But his mind went blank when she started kissing him. Clothes started hitting the floor not long afterwards. His hands were all over her, pushing he onto the bed, biting her, making her grin and moan and his lips passed between her breasts to her belly button, biting her abs, then dragging his lips back to hers. Their breathing was ragged now as they forced each other out of the remnants of their clothes. He bit her neck, pressing against her whole body, laying on top of her. She moaned loudly with pleasure, arching her back.

Sam and Bayleigh lay in bed, sweaty and still panting. Her back was on fire. Sam had tried to be gentle with her wounds, but that had proved to be extremely difficult. But she didn't mind the pain. She barely even took notice when they started oozing blood. She looked at his scars. They pockmarked his chest and there were multiple slashes on his forearms.

"You look like an emo kid," she whispered, smiling and tracing them with her thumb.

"And you look like you have regular disagreements with a blender."

"It's why I don't make smoothies anymore." She grinned and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. he pushed her sweaty hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, then her lips.

"I should probably go take a shower," she murmured. "What with the blood and all."

"I think I'll join you," he smiled.

"I think I would like that."

•2 Months Later•

Smooth. That's the only way she could describe it. Horribly smooth. Everything. No hitches. No slip-ups. No nothing. One monster after another cut down by the Winchesters and their new lady-friend. Three werewolves. A whole coven of vamps. Two ghosts. A demon. All in two months with no backfire on the hunters worthy of explanation.

Ridiculously smooth.

Bayleigh was speeding along the highway following the Impala towards what they assumed had to be a pair of Vetalas. Sam was sitting next to her, humming along to a song by Go Radio. A smile played at her lips.

Sam's phone started ringing. She turned down the radio and he put it on speaker.

"What's up," Sam said.

"Just got off the phone with the lead detective," Dean's voice blared out of the phone. "Another man's gone missing, same MO. Pulled from his bed and replaced by one of the others."

"Completely drained," Bayleigh said.

"You know it."

"They're speeding up," Sammy said. "That's the fourth guy this week. Doesn't it usually take them a couple days?"

"Do you think there's two pairs?" Bayleigh wondered aloud.

Dean replied. "Never heard of it, but hey, crazy's what we do, right? We're nearly there. Meet up at the police station."

Sam nodded and hung up.

"I'll drop you off and check in at a motel," Bayleigh said. She still didn't like dealing with any form of law enforcement.

Her methods included lots of surveillance to make up for the lack of human contact, plus a few record room break-ins. But with the brothers on her side, she could gain intel at their pace, and what she learned by just keeping quiet and watching. They were a freaking dream team together.

She checked in, getting a room for Dean next to hers and Sam's, and started bringing in her duffels. She undressed and took a shower, then started pinning up all of her physical evidence and studying it. She paced, reading, memorizing, waiting.

Her phone signaled a text. She quickly responded to it, telling Sam the room number. Shortly afterwards, he came stumbling out of the cold windy day with Dean close behind. They were wearing their suits and ties.

"What's up?" she asked admiring him in his formal attire. She didn't know why it was such a turn on, but it was.

"I'm pretty sure there's four of 'em," Dean said.

"Great."

"I'm not worried," Sam said quietly, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Well, meanwhile, I believe I know where they're holed up. Or, at least one pair." She looked between them. "Do you think they're working together?"

"They at least have to know of each other," Sam said. "This town may be larger, but it's hard to harbor more than one monster at a time. In any town."

"So then let's go check that one out. See what's there. I'm gonna go changed."

"Your room is on that side," Bayleigh said, pointing. Dean left the room and Sam started loosening his tie.

"I don't like this one," She said, sitting to enjoy the view. She bit her lip ever-so-slightly, watching his back muscles flex.

"Why not? I mean, well, I know why, but..."

"Because there's four of them. Since when do monsters team up like this? I mean, vampire covens join up sometimes, and skinwalkers, but vetalas? It's weird."

Sam shook his head. "I know. I don't like it, but it's what we have to do."

She followed Sam closely, silver knife held tightly in her hand. They rounded a corner and entered a room. Two men were tied to chairs, each paralyzed by vetalan venom. They crept into the room, slowly, cautiously. The men, conscious but immobile, watched the three of them. Sam moved to remove their gags while Dean and Bayleigh looked around cautiously.

"I don't like this," Dean said quietly. Bayleigh shook her head. "Where the hell are they?"

There was a hiss and a squeal from behind them. Bayleigh struck down the first one with a swift jab to the heart, but the other three were already after Sam and Dean. As she turned to help, she let herself smile a bit at how right they had been.

Her assistance proved unnecessary; the three were soon dead with little help from her. She stepped forward to untie the men and instruct them on what to say when the cops got there while Sam and dean took care of the ash the Vetalas had left behind. Then she kissed Sam on the cheek and left for the motel again while they called the police.

She started closing up duffels and putting away weapons and getting ready to leave town again smiling to herself for another job well done.

Too smooth. The night after they killed the Vetalas, she felt as if she'd been switched into manual mode. Like she had realized how perfect everything was and how natural it all was, and since then, it had felt different. Like she had to watch where she was going and what she was doing or it would break the spell. She began to realize that nothing had ever gone so well in her life. She had never killed so many monsters so quickly. She had even faced her fears about exorcising a demon. It felt great. It wasn't just the hunts, though. It was Sam, too. Everything about him. He was absolutely perfect in every way. If there was any other human she was perfectly content spending the rest of her life with, it would be him. He was so great, it was worth Dean's incredibly male sense of humor. She honestly couldn't see herself being that happy with any other human.

And all of this scared the shit out of her.

She was terrified, tense, waiting for it to end. Waiting for the safe warm walls of her life with the Winchesters to come crashing down around her. Waiting to see how this personally apocalyptic event came about. She started thinking about leaving. Running away before something bad could happen. She had it all planned out. Just sneak off in the middle of the night. She had even practiced, rolling out of bed and saying she was going for an early morning jog if she woke him up.

Dean suspected it. Sam was too blinded by everything else to see it, but Dean did. Perhaps because Dean had felt the same way once or twice before. Trapped.

He confronted her about it. Asked her bluntly when she planned to leave. She responded immediately with, 'I told him. I told him before he kissed me. I warned him.'

Dean had nodded and told her he knew. And that Sam knew. But if she left, then she left for good. Dean had let this happen in hopes that she would get over it, whatever made her run, and if she ran now, there was nothing stopping her from running later, and that was not what Sam needed at all. Sam needed stability, and Bayleigh knew that better than Dean thought she did.

In the end, it was those words that made her decision.


	11. Episode 11: Iscariot--Finale

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked on the way to a small town in south Texas. They were on their way to a possible davea case.

"Hm? Oh, yea. I'm fine." But she wasn't.

The two pink lines haunting her every thought were keeping her from being okay.

She found out two days ago that she was pregnant with Sam Winchester's child. She took the pregnancy test the night before she had wanted to leave. Bayleigh hadn't yet decided if it was a sign or terrible luck. Nor had she decided if she wanted to tell him or just leave, have the baby and put it up for adoption, and then go back to normal, minus Sam and Dean. She knew she was absolutely unfit to be a mother, especially now. What would she do with it? She couldn't raise it to hunt; Sam would never let her, but she couldn't give up hunting at all.

Looking at Sam's worried face made her decide to stay until she could figure out what to do.

"Are you sure? You look really pale. Do you want me to drive for a while?"

"Oh, okay. Sure." She pulled over to the side of the road the Impala pulled up beside them; there was no one on the road around them.

"You all good?" Dean asked.

"Yea, just switching seats," Sam replied. Dean looked at Bayleigh in the way he had been since she confessed how she was feeling to him. Waiting. Waiting for her to just… disappear.

"Okay. We're almost there. See you guys in forty-five minutes." The Impala gave an erotic growl and took off down the road.

•Twelve Days Later•

Bayleigh had told Sam to go on with the case without her. She was having terrible cramps and back pain and really just wanted to soak in a hot bath.

When he left, she filled the bathtub with hot water. It felt like forever before the tub was full, she was doubled over in pain practically the whole time. It had been a task taking her clothes off. She got in, groaning both from pain and relief as the water washed over her aching back and hips. Everything relaxed and the pain became bearable. She leaned back and dozed, playing with names she knew she would never give to this child. After a while, she fell asleep.

A sharp pain woke her. She gasped and sat up, groaning and clutching her abdomen. Her eyes widened as she saw what had happened.

The water was red with her blood.

She swallowed and climbed out of the tub, splattering red droplets of bloody water all over the grubby white bathroom. She pulled the plug and watched what was left of her baby wash down the drain. She then turned on the shower and washed the red off of her skin. She felt sad- or… more like pity for the being that had never had a real existence, and yet morbidly glad that her decision had been made for her. She dressed quickly, erased all traces of fresh blood from the bathroom, and turned on some music to calm her shaking nerves. She didn't know why she was so upset about the miscarriage. It was exactly what she needed: a real chance at a clean break from Sam. She wouldn't have much to remind her of him. With a kid, even if she gave it away, it would still be Sam's and she would still have that connection with him.

Bayleigh threw herself on the bed and rolled up into a fetal position, then unrolled with the thought of fetus. The boys banged through the door a few moments later. This time, Sam's worried face as he found her on the bed only made her want to leave more. She decided to do it that night.

Bayleigh woke up. Sam was snoring softly next to her, so she rolled out of his arms and off the bed. He stirred.

"Bay?" Her heart seemed to give out for a second.

"Go back to sleep, Sam," she said softly, going around the bed and touching his face. "I'm just going for a jog." He groaned and rolled over, falling asleep almost immediately.

Bayleigh dressed quickly and zipped up her duffel. She looked at the clock: just after four. She frowned and shook her head, then continued out the door.

When she got outside, she put the pickup in neutral and pushed it into another spot further away from the room before starting it. As she did, the door to the motel room next to theirs opened and Dean stepped out, arms crossed and glaring. But Bayleigh pulled out anyways, locking eyes with Dean, bravely she felt, as she did.

Once she was out of town, she pulled over to the side of the road and looked at the empty passenger seat. It had started with her in it, Rufus driving. Then her old dog Jake who passed away before she got Coby, then Coby, or Rye. And then finally Sam.

Sam.

The man who had taught her how to love again. Who gave her more than she could ever give him, give anyone else.

The man she was leaving behind.

Then she broke down, crying for the first time in years. Harder than she'd ever cried before.

When she finally regained composure, she took off down the road again with a jolt. She turned up the music to drown out her thoughts, but it proved counterproductive when it just forced memories of Sam in her pickup on her.

She drove for three days, transitioning between complete silence and music so loud it gave her headaches. She never stopped, except to fill up on gas. Her appetite was gone and she knew if she slept, she would dream of Him.

Sam sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, looking around. Bayleigh wasn't there. The shower wasn't on. Her presence, so strong to him, was absent. Her duffel bags were gone.

Sam banged on his brother's door. "Dean." The door opened. "Do you know where-" he trailed off. The look on Dean's face said everything. Bayleigh was gone. She had left him, just like she said she would.

"She warned you, Sammy," he said sadly.

Sam swore loudly and turned away. He rubbed a hand over his face and bit his lip. How could she do that? He thought that she loved him. He loved her! Why would she do something so cruel? "Fuck," he whispered.

"I'm sorry, Sam." He turned back to his brother, his eyes red.

"Me too." 'I just didn't believe it would happen. Not like this.'

•A Week Later•

A lot can happen in a week. For Bayleigh, it was everything short of a reckless rampage. She had almost died every day that week, and almost arrested three times. She just didn't care. What was left? Nothing.

She stumbled out of the abandoned house, not caring about leaving the body behind like that, and climbed into the Dodge. She was bleeding profusely out of multiple wounds and was positive she had more than one broken ribs. The Crocotta had really kicked her ass. It had lulled her here with Sam's voice, whispering forgiveness and love. Her hunter instincts had kicked in as it started feeding on her, whispering sweet nothings in Sam's voice. She had reached for the first sharp thing she touched and stabbed. When it started fighting back, she was sure she was done for and had started laughing.

Her reaction was what saved her. On instinct, she stabbed the monster, then lay on the ground. Her blood pooled and mixed the the Crocotta's. When she finally got up, she didn't even know what she was doing, why she was going towards her car. Maybe her subconscious wanted her to die in her car. Maybe it was just Hunter Survival kicking in again. She didn't know. She just turned on the engine and started driving, the pain making it hard to tell where she was going and how hard it was snowing. She drove on through a storm so thick with snow that it literally looked like hell had frozen over.

The dodge sputtered out, the heater turning off with the engine. She didn't even try to find another jacket or something to keep her warm before she fell asleep, the snow building up around her car, piling inch upon inch til it was nearly impossible to even open the door, as high as it was off the ground.

Bayleigh was trapped, but too delirious to realize it.


	12. Because I care(:

**So that was the finale. It was also a pain in my ass to transfer everything from Mibba to here, so I'm just gonna give you the link and let you go. If you liked it and you want to meet this attractive male nurse named Syd Dawson and also one of my favorite characters ever (named Evvie) and you also want to witness Dean get it on with an ex-ex-hunter, then you'll click the link. If you don't, no hard feelings. Whatevs. We can still be friends.  www. mibba Stories/Read/501527/Louder-Than-Words/** **That's the link, but there's spaces in between the / w and the w. m and the a.c so you might want to remove those. Or just go on Mibba and search it. Or tell me how to get a damn link on here. Anywho, it's called Louder than Words. I feel like it really represents my growth as a writer in the three months it took to write it. And honestly, I'm really proud of most of it. And April 1st 2013 is the set release date for Silent Restraint, Season 3, and I'm also thinking about writing a whole individual sequel that has just about nothing to do with Sam and Dean, just plain Bayleigh. **

_**Oh, you want a sneak peek of Silent Restraint? well I guess I can give you a piece of the first chapter...**_

**It's called For Fuck's Sake**

Sammy was obviously in trouble. He'd followed Sam's trail all the way up here and now he was nowhere to be found. He approached his baby, running a hand along the side-

There was a dirty brown leather sneaker in his car. He stooped and found the sneaker attached to a leg wrapped in skin-tight jeans. Above the low-cut waist was a flash of creamy white skin and then the hem of a black t-shirt and a ratty brown leather jacket. He walked around the vehicle to the other side and found the head and shoulders, visible through the cracked window. He straightened his jacket and frowned. Then he licked his lips and glared over the top of the Impala, annoyed, before banging on the window with this girl in his car groaned and stuck a hand up, middle finger extended. He frowned and knocked again.

"For fuck's sake, officer, I just need some damn sleep."

Dean rocked back on his heels, licking his lips again, raising his eyebrows.

"Sorry, Sweetheart, but I'm just about the furthest thing from a cop. And this is my car."

The girl looked up at him, pushing dark hair out of her face, then murmured, loud enough for Dean to hear, "Almost as pretty as the fucking car."

Dean stepped back so she could open the door and get out. "You see the guy who was driving this?" he wasted no time asking. "Huge, tall guy with long hair. Sam."

The girl shrugged. "I only found the cars last night. I slept in this one cause the window was cracked and I could get in without hurting her." She touched the black metal fondly before looking back at Dean. "I didn't see anyone."

He swore under his breath and turned away from her, one hand instinctively going up to touch his head, but coming back down almost immediately, so it just sort of hovered there for a moment before returning to his side.

"This guy steal your car or something?" she asked.

"He's my brother, and I don't know where he is now. Shit." He shook his head, looking at her. "Did you touch anything?"

"Nope. I was out like a light. That's the softest surface I've slept on in a few days."

"What's your name?"

"Dex Casey." She started going through her pockets and pulled out a carton of stale cigarettes. She put one on her lips and offered him one. He shook his head and turned away to investigate his car. Meanwhile, Dex couldn't get her lighter to catch, so she gave up on the cigarette and felt contented just to hold it between her fingers. She didn't like them anyways, she told herself; they stink. She went round to the trunk, were he was at, to ask him what his name was, but was stopped by what she saw he was doing.

"Holy shit, Bro... that's a whole fucking- shit- you can arm a small army of children with that."

Dean looked up at her. "I need to find my brother."

"Obviously," she muttered, picking up a small silver knife and poking it against her hand, cigarette still clutched between her fingers. She picked up an I.D. with his picture on it, probably fallen out of his box of them. "Jimmy Paige, FBI? I thought you weren't a cop."

"Don't touch that." Dean took it out of her hands and shoved it back on the box, which suddenly appeared in her hands.

"So what's your real name?" Dex asked, flipping through hundreds, or so it seemed, of fake I.D.'s. "Or should I just call you Jimmy? Or do you prefer Robert Plant? Is this your brother? I thought his name was Sam, why George? Wait, George Thorogood, as in George Thorogood and the Destroyers? Do you guys have a bunch of fake I.D.'s named after old rock stars?" She giggled. "Which one of you is Tom Petty?"


End file.
